The forest quaked with whispers.
Masked cultists slithered from the trees, bone-white faces glinting in the dawn light. Their robes drank the color from the air, black threads unraveling into smoke as they moved. Each step echoed with unnatural weight, like the ground itself bowed beneath them.
Kael's chest seared. The shard throbbed violently, pulsing in time with the chants.
"Thief of Destiny…
Bearer of the Key…
Return to the Abyss."
Kael staggered back, pressing a hand against his ribs. "Why are you calling me that?"
One cultist stepped forward, mask carved into a twisted smile. His voice slithered like oil.
"You were never Hollow. You were chosen. The shard is no curse, no accident—it is a door. And you… are the hand that turns the key."
The words cut through Kael's heart. Chosen? No. That was impossible. He'd been thrown away, abandoned since birth. He wasn't chosen—he was nothing.
"I don't want your destiny," Kael spat, though his voice shook.
The cultist's grin never wavered. "The Abyss does not ask what you want. It only takes."
With a hiss, the cult surged forward.
Varic roared with laughter, swinging his axe in wide arcs. The first cultist's mask shattered under his blade, spraying ichor across the grass. "Finally!" he bellowed. "A fight worth breathing for!"
Kael's pulse thundered. Another cultist rushed him, hands dripping with shadow that burned like acid where it touched the earth. Kael raised his arms to block—and the shard reacted.
Light erupted from his skin, lashing out in a wild arc. The cultist shrieked as the glow seared through his body, leaving him crumpled in the dirt.
Kael stumbled, staring at his own hands. His breath hitched. "I… I didn't mean to—"
Another came, faster. Kael twisted, slammed a fist into the cultist's chest. Power flared again, too much, too wild. The body convulsed and collapsed, smoke rising from the mask.
The shard's whispers flooded his mind. Yes. Take them. Devour them. They are yours.
"No!" Kael shouted, clutching his head. His vision swam, caught between his own screams and the cult's endless chant.
"The Key. The Key. The Key."
He fell to his knees. The power surged, begging to be unleashed, to swallow everything in reach.
Then—
A hand seized his collar, hauling him upright. Varic's savage grin filled his vision, eyes burning with fire.
"Stop shaking, boy! This is who you are. Predator. Key. Thief. Accept it!"
Kael's heart slammed against his ribs. He could feel it—he was on the edge. One step away from unleashing the shard completely.
But if he did… he didn't know if Kael would be left when it was over.
The cultists closed in, chanting louder, the forest trembling with their voices.
And Kael's choice teetered on a knife's edge.
⸻
➡️ Cliffhanger: Kael is seconds away from either embracing the shard fully… or breaking under its weight, while Varic and the cult push him to surrender.